Let's get you checked out, Harry
by Kodiak Bear Country
Summary: A missing scene inspired by Murphy's comment as she helps Harry. Spoilers for episode 1x06, set in TV verse but doesn't really conflict with book verse.


AN: This is a missing scene for the recently aired episode Soul Beneficiary. It's set in the TV verse but I'll always try to stay as true to the book verse as I can. Seeing how there isn't a seperate category in TV shows I'm putting this in the only one there is, I hope that's okay!

**...let's get you checked out, Harry.**

**by kodiak bear  
**

Harry liked the smell of leather seats. Murphy had some _great_ leather seats. He squinted at the back of her head and wondered again why he wasn't driving. "I like your car," he said helpfully.

She glanced in the rear view mirror and smiled tightly. "I know, Harry. You've told me." She added, sotto-voice, "_five times_."

"Oh," Harry said. Then he thought about the cute blonde. "Why'd you take my wife away?" He stared owlishly at the simple gold band on his finger. Wife? Where'd that come from? He was married? Huh. Must've been some ceremony.

Murphy's lips thinned and her hands gripped the steering wheel, hard. Harry could tell, 'cause her knuckles got all white. She sighed and explained, "You're not married. She tricked you. Drugged you. That's why you're acting like a five year old."

_Hey_! Harry scowled. "I'm not five." He shifted in the seat because his butt was going numb. His pajamas were thin and he was a little cold and the police coat she'd shoved him into didn't fit. It was too small and the sleeves rode high above his wrists and he couldn't seem to get his fingers to work the zipper.

"Are we there yet?"

"Harry!" Murphy's knuckles eased on the wheel; her hands slid forward and back in a soothing rhythm, then she looked at him again through the mirror. "Hey, I've got an idea, why don't you close your eyes and take a nap? I bet you're tired and we've still got an hour to go --"

He was kinda tired. "Okay, Murph. Wake me up when I'm home." Wherever that was…wasn't he just at his home? _Such a shame_, he thought as he scrunched down lower in the seat, _I really did like that picture_.

"You got it, Harry," she said a little huskily.

Anyway, his eyes were heavy and it was taking a lot of concentration to keep them open. Besides, it was nicer this way. The shifting landscape was beginning to make his stomach flip-floppy and he was pretty sure Murphy would be mad at him if he threw up on her nice leather seats. The car tires hummed hypnotically underneath him and soon he was dreaming about a man telling him about his repeated dreams of dying, a tall guy named Bob, and a bug biting him on the neck.

OoO

He needed to call an entomologist. _First thing_, he thought, _when I finish waking up,_ as he batted at the sting of another bug bite on his arm; first his neck, now his arm. He hoped it wasn't a brown recluse. Those things were nasty little buggers. Wait a minute? Did they even have brown recluses in Chicago?

"Hold still," Murphy scolded.

"Wha --" Harry opened his eyes, confused. He realized, a little sluggishly, that he wasn't in Murphy's car. Things also weren't so jerky anymore and he could see a green curtain pulled around him, a guy in white, and _hey_! That wasn't a bug at all, it was a needle and a tube and it was full of his blood. Blood was important – you could do a lot with someone's mojo juice. "What'd you do that for?" he asked, feeling a little betrayed. He'd gone to sleep in Murphy's car because he'd trusted her. Where was…

"Harry," Murphy said, getting down near him. "Do you know where you're at?"

He rolled his eyes. "Not home." He also made a swipe for the vial of his blood. The guy in white glared and easily dodged.

"You were drugged. I wanted to make sure you're going to be okay." She straightened and asked the guy in white, "How long will it take to get the results?"

"An hour," he replied.

"That long?" Murphy looked at Harry, crestfallen and a little tired. "Can't you make it STAT or something?"

The guy's lips curled derisively. "Lieutenant, that _is_ STAT. You're in an ER in Chicago." He grabbed his supplies and ducked out through the curtain, leaving Murphy standing at the foot of Harry's gurney.

"I'm in the ER?" Harry craned his neck to look around. "Why am I in the ER?" He suddenly got interested in his legs, arms, _okay_, everything felt like it should…so why was he here?

A spike of pain in his neck and Harry was suddenly back in his office. He staggered, disoriented. Dead Nancy. No, Lisa. No, _Nancy_. "Sharon?" Harry's forehead wrinkled as he tried to make sense of the memories beginning to surface.

"She got away." Murphy crossed her arms against her chest and frowned at him. "Harry…"

"She _drugged_ me," Harry swore. "Played dead and I fell for it." More flashes. Nancy sitting in the chair in his office, still in the gown from the morgue. Sharon walking in. Then a hit on his throat; a sharp, hot sting; and then everything got a lot hazy and vague. _This is your wife, Lisa_ and_ drink your juice_ and dodging knives and fire-place pokers and then, "You found me." Harry frowned at Murphy who was watching him, a look of curiosity and maybe a little worry on her face. "How'd you find me?"

Now she just looked uncomfortable. "About that --"

The curtain rattled and was pulled back. A doctor came in, staring at his clipboard until he seemed to realize there were other humans around him, then his head came up and he smiled politely, if not a little absently. "Ah, Dresden, is it? Harry Dresden?"

"You've heard of me?" Sure, Harry seemed to have a string of injuries lately, but he didn't remember this guy.

The doctor shook his head and tried to act like he didn't think Harry was slightly stupid. "It's on the form." He set the clipboard down by Harry's feet and regarded him like Harry was a bug instead of a patient. "So, you were drugged? How are you feeling now?"

"I --"

"Of course he was drugged," Murphy snapped.

Harry glanced at her and started to say, "I'm --"

"He's still not tracking like he should, check his eyes." Murphy regarded Harry and the doctor like they were her minions and should line up like she expected.

That's the thing with cops, and especially Murphy. They liked control and anything outside of that control was a challenge, something to wrestle back down into their neat little places in the world. Harry was a challenge that Murphy hadn't quite figured out, though she was definitely trying. She kept prying and pushing, and Harry kept dodging and distracting. They were working together with increasing frequency, probably because Murphy had found that some things just weren't in her realm of control and Harry seemed to be able to do what she couldn't. But damn if she didn't want to know how.

And she had this thing with being lied to. Sure made working with her difficult because there were things Harry couldn't tell her. In his defense though, there was a lot she'd probably be better off not ever knowing. Like the things that could burn a body to a crisp in the blink of an eye, _hellfire_, and eviscerate a body, or steal its _skin_ and then parade around as the dead corpse. And he really doubted Murphy wanted to know about being possessed by a dead man and almost killing Harry.

"I'm tracking better," Harry said, pointedly. At least, he was pretty sure he was. There for a while his world had been jerking and spinning enough to keep him unbalanced and drowsy. Come to think of it, he was still tired, and he had to blink a few times to keep Murphy in focus.

The doctor leaned over him, told him to follow his finger and Harry thought he did pretty good considering, but Murphy didn't look pleased. She leaned against the wall near his head, staying out of the way but not leaving.

"Murph, I didn't know you cared," he slurred. His thoughts were getting clearer and Harry was remembering who he was and what'd happened but now he began to feel like he hadn't slept in weeks. Tired. Really tired.

She pulled away, looking suddenly like a cat caught in the cream. "I don't," she lied. "Well?" She turned her attention to the doctor.

The doctor shrugged. "His reflexes are still a little slow, but he looks okay. You were with him earlier, does it seem to be wearing off?"

"Yeah," she said, casting him another look. "Right, Harry?"

Harry was getting a little irritated at the situation. "Yeah, sure. I know my name now. That's progress." He also wanted to go home and sleep for days. And if it weren't for the looming rent, he'd hang a sign that said "On Vacation" and close up shop for a while. Lately, he was getting way too many cases that'd wiped the floor with him. And he hadn't even gotten paid for this one. He'd been on the verge of sending Kelton to a therapist when the man had dropped dead.

Picking the clipboard off the bed, the doctor pulled a small black pen from his pocket and scribbled some notes then said, "Assuming your bloodwork comes back okay, you'll be able to go home soon. Why don't you take a little nap while you wait, it'll help your body finish processing whatever it was that you were given."

Harry waved and rolled his eyes. Sleep. Sure, he was almost doing it anyway.

Murphy quickly hid her relief behind a gruff face. Her cop face. "Thank you, Doctor."

The doctor paused. "Does he have a ride home? He really shouldn't drive for twenty-four hours."

"I'll take him."

"Okay, well, take care Mr. Dresden." The doctor inclined his head towards Murphy. "Lieutenant."

She turned back to him after the doctor disappeared through the curtain and her face softened for a moment. She looked almost as tired as Harry felt. "Get some sleep, Harry. I'll wake you up when it's time to go."

He had a lot of reasons to stay awake. The guy in white had snatched his blood. He'd need to come back, make sure it was destroyed so no one else could use it. Sharon was still out there. And there were always a lot of bad guys showing up on his doorstep; but it'd been a hell of a day and the drug was still weighing his body down, making him feel like he was swimming in molasses. Murphy blurred a little around the edges and Harry blinked, trying to focus just a little longer.

Other than Bob, Harry didn't have anyone, and there wasn't a lot that a spirit could do, what with all the restrictions on him. So, it was kinda nice that Murphy was here. His mom had died when he was a baby, his dad, when he was just a kid. Everyone else was just transitory. Somehow, he didn't think Murphy was that kind. As his eyes grew too heavy to keep open, he smiled slowly. She'd have his back, at least for now.

"G'night, Murph."

"Night, Harry," she murmured. "I'm glad you're safe."

Did he imagine the hand that brushed against his forehead?


End file.
